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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25167580">The Sword in the Cake</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle'>Camelittle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Arthurian, Awesome Freya (Merlin), Cake, Cheese, Crack, Freya's POV, Humor, Idiots in Love, Legends, M/M, Merlioske-friendly, One Shot, Wedding Fluff, Whimsy, because that would be a confection too far, there is also cheese but not cheesecake, yes - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:36:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,059</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25167580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Freya's first wedding cake commission takes an unexpected turn when one of the grooms turns out to be a warlock. Cake-related shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>137</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Sword in the Cake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>With huge thanks to Tari_Sue, Clea2011 and LFB72 for pre-reading, cheerleading and being awesome in every way.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Events moved so quickly that Freya had no time to work out where everything had fallen apart. It had all gone so well, at first. Excited at opening her new business – a business so new that she hadn’t even named it yet – she had spent hours decorating her first ever wedding cake to the precise specifications given. Avoiding all hazards, she had transported it to the venue without mishap and transferred it to the required location, together with all the accoutrements the grooms had requested. So far, so matrimonial. </p><p>Decked out in muted greys and browns, the finished article resembled a rock so closely that many of the guests had not realised its true identity. Its mundane exterior, however, hid a delicious centre layered with various citrus drizzle sponges and surrounded by a fortifying layer of home-made marzipan beneath the decorative icing. While she was baking it, Freya’s kitchen had smelt of lemon for days. </p><p>This confection stood in pride of place in the middle of the wildflower-bedecked lawns, with Freya’s favourite sword poking out of it, hilt first. A plaque on one side – made of royal icing, but painted to resemble slate – bore the legend <em>“Whomsoever lifteth ye sword from ye stone is rightful born king... of Merlin’s heart”.  </em>It had taken her ages to get the spelling of <em>whomsoever</em> right. </p><p>At the conclusion of the slightly unusual ceremony, one of the grooms, Arthur, a broad-shouldered blond bloke with a gorgeous bum, clutched the hilt of the sword with both hands and pulled it free of the cake with a triumphant flourish. Everyone cheered, and the two men embraced. </p><p>“I now pronounce you warlock and husband!” boomed the master of ceremonies, a crusty old codger dressed in a faux green lizard-skin suit, complete with top hat. “And now you may cut the cake, as was foreseen. Everyone rejoice, for this is a good omen for you both, and for Albion!”</p><p>The congregation clapped, and exchanged beaming smiles, Freya along with them. And yes, it was eccentric, but Freya would witness stranger weddings, she was sure of that, and at least the weather had held out. </p><p>But that’s when it happened. </p><p>The other groom, Merlin, the dishy warlock with the cheekbones and the big ears who had begged Freya to take this commission because apparently his magic told him she was right for the job, turned to the assembled guests with a hoarse cry. He wrestled the sword from his partner, and instead of chopping the stone-cake up into small pieces with it as he was supposed to do, he whirled Freya’s sword around his head as if entering an Olympic throwing-the-hammer contest, causing everyone to duck to get away from the flashing blade, and hurled it with all his might towards a nearby pond.</p><p>It was as if time stood still as the weapon turned, end over end, over the heads of open-mouthed wedding-guests, momentum propelling it over the outstretched hands of even the quickest and tallest ones among them, whereupon it descended, entering the pond with an audible plopping noise, and displacing a number of loudly protesting waterfowl. </p><p>Which is how she found herself going straight from presiding over the cake ceremony at her first ever wedding to wading knee deep in mud, warding off angry ducks while she fished around for her sword, muttering dark imprecations about deranged, over-excitable warlocks. </p><p>“Oh, Lord, I do apologise on behalf of my husband!” Arthur was the first to race to her aid and wade into the pond, still in his wedding suit. “I don’t know what got into the idiot, honestly. Merlin? Merlin! Stop standing there like a lemon and come and find this sword!” </p><p>“Arthur?” The other groom blinked at them, eyes still glowing bright gold. </p><p>“Oh, no!” Arthur said, gazing wildly about for help. “His magic has gone haywire. Gwen?” He beckoned to the maid of honour, who was the second on the scene, having lifted her skirts and discarded her high heels to arrive at a run. “Help Merlin would you? It’s just like that incident with the cheese and the butterknife all over again!”  </p><p>“Oh, no,” echoed Gwen. She patted Merlin’s arm and led him away, adding in a soothing voice, “Come on Merlin. There, there. It’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Gods, I’m so sorry. ” Merlin said, voice shaking. </p><p>“It’s just a bit of excitement,” Gwen said. “Remember how nice and shiny the knife was after the thing with the cheese? And Morgana said at the time it was a good omen. Everything will be alright, you’ll see.” </p><p>“Wait. This has happened before?” Freya gazed down at her ruined dress, frowning. She bit her lip, not quite sure how she’d ended up like this. “Does it happen a lot, then? This cutlery lobbing thing, I mean?” </p><p>“Not really. Only when he’s excited.” Arthur winced at the mud stains.  “Don’t worry. We will replace the ruined clothes. Have you found your sword yet?” </p><p>“Not yet.” Sighing, Freya waded barefoot further into the pond, feeling the way with her feet, her skirts spreading out in the water. It was shallower than she had originally feared, and the water only reached her knees. She bent and felt all around the soft, muddy bottom with both hands. </p><p>“Careful not to cut your fingers,” Arthur warned.</p><p>“It’s all right. The blade isn’t sharp. Ah! Got it!” With a cry of triumph, she grabbed the hilt and brandished the sword, lifting it high into the air where the sunlight caught it, making its wet blade gleam. And where before it had been a slightly dull, grey pewter colour, and blunt to boot, it now sparkled like burnished steel, with a bejewelled golden hilt fit for a king. What’s more, its edge now looked as if it could slice through genuine rock, let alone cake disguised as such.</p><p>“And so, the lady of the lake lifts the sword, Excalibur,” intoned the master of ceremonies. </p><p>“Lady of the lake? Lady of the cake, more like!” said Gwen, with a delighted giggle. </p><p>Lady of the cake?</p><p>Lady of the cake! </p><p>“Lady of the cake! Of course! That's it! Gwen! You’re a genius!” Freya cried, splashing out of the pond, still clutching the sword. </p><p>Because. Well. She had to admit it. There were worse names for a wedding-cake business. <em>Lady of the Cake</em> it would be. </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>END</p><p>***</p>
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